Ice and Fire
by TheDragonQueenx
Summary: REUPLOADED. A series of drabbles centered around Jon and Dany's relationship after she arrives at Winterfell with a marriage pact for the King in the North. Post season 6/ADWD, marked as completed but might update at some point in the future?
1. Chapter 1

**I would just like to apologise profusely to all of the wonderful people who reviewed, favourited and read this the first time it was posted. Your wonderful words nearly made me cry and I am incredibly grateful to have other people say such kind things about my writing. The reason I deleted this fic originally was because I wasn't aware of George RR Martin's negative stance on fanfiction and after reading quite a few of his blog posts about not approving of fanfic and not wanting other people 'playing' with his characters I felt like the best thing to do was take this down as it goes against the original author's wishes. However, I've had a few messages from people who really enjoyed this fic and I've decided to reupload it again for a few reasons. Firstly, isn't the show kind of fanfic now? It's definitely diverging from the books and David and Dan are basically playing with the characters in their own way (no disrespect meant, I love the show just as much as I love the books). Secondly, I've seen a lot of Dany hate lately that's really got me down and I'm kinda sick of reading about her as a OOC villain and Jon as some brooding sympathetic hero who needs rescuing from her. There's a lot of Jon/Sansa stuff now online, which is great cos we're all entitled to ship whoever we want, that's the fun of fiction, but some Jon/Sansa includes a lot of Jon/Dany and just general Dany bashing and I just really want to put out a fic where I feel Dany is more realistic and sympathetic. Lastly it's not fair to the people who have enjoyed this and left me such lovely reviews. So yeah, I'm really sorry George RR Martin, if you ever happen to see this it's nothing serious and no copyright is intended at all and please don't sue me because I'm broke. Sorry for the long author's note, I just wanted to explain myself :)**

She's hot on his tongue.

The dragon queen is as much fire made flesh as her children; despite the freezing cold of winter biting at them through the walls of Winterfell, Daenerys is always hot to the touch. She warms him in more ways than one. It's no secret that Jon is a sombre man, a trait inherited from Eddard Stark. But sometimes he finds himself smiling, a small, tender smile when she doesn't know he is looking and he can fully drink her in. Her eyes roll back, her fingers clench in his hair and her thighs clamp hard around his head as he tastes her molten heat; her grip is strong, like being caught in the claw of a dragon.

She's fire and he's ice and slowly she's melting him.

* * *

The first time Jon met the dragons he nearly pissed himself. The former Lord Commander is no stranger to horror, war and the supernatural. He's fought wildlings, wights, white walkers. He's drowned in a sea of dead and dying bodies in a war to reclaim his home from a sadistic monster. He's killed an Other and been killed by his own brothers.

That doesn't stop the sight of three colossal dragons flying over Winterfell making his legs shake and nearly buckle from underneath him.

Drogon didn't like him, which didn't surprise Daenerys. He quickly learnt that the winged shadow was not only the largest and most aggressive dragon but also the child closest to his mother. Drogon was fiercely protective of Daenerys. Jon only had to approach her too quickly and he would snarl, his hackles rising and his gleaming black teeth coming towards him. Dany would have to soothe him quickly, stroking his head with a tenderness that only came to mothers.

Eventually he warmed up to him. Despite a few initial snarls, nearly setting his cloak on fire and trying to eat Ghost, Drogon slowly became accustomed to Jon's constant presence around Daenerys. He wasn't sure that the black beast really _liked_ him, but Dany insisted that other than her he didn't really like anyone.

Rhaegal took to Jon instantly. The green and bronze dragon, although smaller than his black brother, was still a sight to behold that was both wondrous and terrifying. Upon arriving at Winterfell with Daenerys, his brothers and the Targaryen army, Rhaegal seemed to take a shine to Jon, following him around and allowing him to pet the scales on his neck. This did surprise Dany; Rhaegal had a bit of a temper, not quite as fierce as Drogon's but still made worse from his time in the dragonpit of Meereen. The green dragon loved and listened to his mother- he'd sulk along with Viserion whenever she had to leave Winterfell to treat with other houses- but the bond was not as strong as it had once been. Still, it made Dany happy to see him warm up to Jon.

(Jon suspected it was because they both had common ground, sulking together when the silver queen was gone for too long.)

Viserion was the gentlest of the three dragons, and the smallest. The cream and gold dragon was generally tolerant of everybody who wasn't enemy and seemed to have forgiven his mother for his imprisonment. He was quick to submit to Drogon, the alpha of the pack, and the first to demand his mother's affection. Once the initial fear of the dragons had subsided, Daenerys had encouraged Jon to approach Viserion first. The white dragon had tolerated his hesitant touch, had even prodded him with his nose playfully. As long as he wasn't hungry, Viserion was definitely the tamest and most relaxed of the three.

(Jon also suspected that, besides his mother, Tyrion Lannister was his favourite person to be around).

The dragons had scared him, more than the Unsullied and the Dothraki. But seeing Daenerys interact with them had warmed something inside of him and a strange part of him he never knew existed became secretly invested in dragons.

* * *

His feelings for the khaleesi had been mixed at first.

Arriving at Winterfell on dragonback with an army behind her so soon after he'd finally taken it back from the Boltons had made him weary and almost resentful. She was a Targaryen, the last Targaryen and she had no reason to bear any love for a Stark bastard and his trueborn sister. Luckily for him, she had Tyrion Lannister beside her. The Imp had become something just shy of a friend to Jon during their time at the Wall together; maybe it was this that had swayed him to counsel Daenerys into siding with the Starks instead of against them. Dany was no fool. She was not blind to what her father was; she knew what he did to Rickard and Brandon Stark, what he did to all of his enemies and what he planned to do to King's Landing. She had also told him of her brother's relationship with Lyanna Stark, something she had always believed to have been sour and the cause of the Targaryen downfall from Viserys but soon learnt the truth of from Barristan Selmy. Rhaegar had loved Lyanna, and Ser Barristan had believed Lyanna loved Rhaegar. There was no reason to cause unnecessary bloodshed when the real enemy sat on the Iron Throne, she had said.

Then he had told her who the real enemy was, the white walkers approaching the Wall with an army of the dead, and her face paled.

There was an attraction there. How could there not be? Jon Snow was a man underneath his honour and sense of nobility, and he wasn't blind. Daenerys Targaryen was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, more beautiful than Cersei Lannister and his sister Sansa and any other woman he had laid eyes on. More beautiful than Ygritte.

(He felt guilty for thinking that.)

Dany was exotic and otherworldly, with the long silver gold hair and purple eyes of a Targaryen, a small but shapely body and creamy skin kissed by the sun from the east. She was beautiful, but she was fierce and strong, disregarding the norms expected of her due to her gender. She reminded him of Ygritte.

Ygritte had been kissed by fire, Daenerys Targaryen bathed in it.

* * *

With the taste of her still on his tongue he pulled his body forward to watch her as she came down from her bliss. Her eyes were glazed over and her lips were slightly parted, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on her skin. Jon leant forward and captured her lips with his own, drinking in the taste of the dragon queen. Despite the initial attraction and respect for her, love had come over time. But now it consumed him. She consumed him, like fire burning away at him from the inside. Her people saw her as Daenerys Stormborn, First of Her Name and all the rest of her many titles, but he knew her as Dany. He knew her fears and her worries, her dreams and desires, what food she liked and what food she didn't, her unearthly bond with Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion, her guilt and her secret fear that she would end up as mad as her father. He knew her lusts, what made her squirm and scream and gush molten heat.

He'd spend hours with his face between her legs, the sounds of her pleasure enough to nearly finish him.

Dany smiled slightly into the kiss, a lovely lazy kiss between two people who never knew how much they needed each other until the moment they finally met. It was a slow, delicious kiss, Jon savouring the taste of her. They could forget that she was a queen and he a bastard; when he was around her it was hard to feel like a bastard, despite knowing he wasn't good enough to marry her. They could even temporarily forget the army of the dead marching towards the Wall and the inevitable war that stretched in front of them. For a small, blissful moment it was just them, Jon and Dany, in their own perfect bubble away from the rest of Westeros.

"Jon," she sighed, taking his face in her hand. Their eyes met, purple and grey. She smiled and pushed a lock of damp hair from his face, turning him over and straddling him before enveloping his manhood with her heat.

He hadn't noticed he was sweating. Daenerys was fire, he was ice and he had been cold for so so long. But now she was here, and for the first time in his life Jon Snow felt warm.


	2. Chapter 2

**I wasn't sure if I was going to leave this as a one-shot but I decided that I had to write something from Daenerys' POV. Dany is my favourite character in ASOIAF and GoT, so I hope I've written her character well. I'll probably continue this as a series of drabbles set in the same timeline; post season 6, Dany has sailed to Westeros and struck an alliance with Jon Snow to rally the North behind her and also help defeat the Others.**

He cooled her.

Daenerys Targaryen was the blood of the dragon, the bride of fire, the last hope of a dynasty. The weight of the world seemed to rest upon her small shoulders. The last Targaryen, a girl born to be a princess, who had everything ripped away from her on the night of her birth and grew to become a queen with the fate of Westeros dangling over her head.

Dany had a dragon's temper, and at times it frightened her. She wanted to do good in Westeros, like she had done in the newly renamed Bay of Dragons. She had freed the slaves, set the people who called her _mother_ free despite the threat of the masters, the Sons of the Harpy and her own inexperience when it came to ruling. She had united the Dothraki into a single khalasar and crossed the Narrow Sea, the last hope of House Targaryen.

But Dany was still young, despite how much she had learned. And she was lonely. Viserys had been scared and cruel but he had still been her brother. Now she was alone, all of her family dead. Her mother and father, her brothers, her sun and stars and her child, slain in the womb. Daenerys had advisors and allies: Tyrion Lannister, Yara Greyjoy, Missandei and Grey Worm and Ser Jorah Mormont, still lost in the world trying to find a cure so he could return to her. But she did not have family.

Jon had changed that. Jon had cured her of her loneliness, made her feel finally as if she had a _home,_ a _family,_ someone to return to when the battles were fought who loved her. Her, Dany, not Daenerys Stormborn, Mother of Dragons, the conqueror many men (Daario Naharis included) lusted for. He cooled her when she grew angry, balanced out her views and helped her see things that weren't as clear. The solemn bastard from Winterfell had given her so much more than just a claim to the North.

He'd given her hope. Clarity. A dream of family and the life she should have had that was finally within arm's reach.

* * *

"I dreamt of you," she whispered, her fingertips idly tracing the skin of his chest. Jon was warm. Despite being a Northener through and through, his skin was oddly warm.

"Aye?" he said. She could feel him shift slightly to look down at her, lying in the warmth of his arms with her bare chest pressed against his. She sighed like a contented cat.

"I didn't know it was you then. In truth I thought it nothing more than the silly dreams of a young girl, fantasizing over a strange handsome boy. But it was you. I know it was you."

He was quiet for a moment. She peered up at him, worried she'd upset him.

"You shouldn't trust dreams, Daenerys," he said quietly. "Dreams, prophecies. They're not to be trusted."

"What makes you so sure? If I had never listened to my dreams, my children would never have been born. There would be no dragons in the world and I would still be alone."

Jon went quiet again, his eyes staring off into the fireplace as he though was lost somewhere else. Dany pulled herself up and straddled his waist once more.

(Her favourite position to be in, after having him between her thighs.)

"Jon," she said, brushing her hand against his face. He looked at her, grey eyes that had been cold for so long now warm and swimming with the reflection of the fire. "I know why you distrust prophecy. Ser Davos told me about the Red Woman. How she brought you back, after…"

"Did he tell you that she burnt a little girl?" he said. "Stannis Baratheon's daughter. She believed he was the one to defeat the white walkers. And she killed his daughter. Burnt alive at the stake."

Daenerys wanted to comfort him but was unsure how. It wasn't just the girl's death that haunted him; she saw the pain living behind his eyes everyday, the familiar pain of grief and loss and betrayal.

"Mirri Maz Durr murdered my son whilst he was still in my womb. She took Drogo from me. My sun and stars," she began, hesitantly choosing her words. It felt wrong somehow, to be this honest, but with Jon it also felt insanely right. "For a while I thought I had a family. I thought I was going home. But then the _maegi_ took it all away, because I was foolish enough to trust her and her magic.

But my dragons were born. I rose from Drogo's pyre with my children, and I made my own name and my own way. Here I am now, in Westeros, with you. I don't know if this was fate, or prophecy…but we can't live for the past. We have the future to fight for. _If we look back we are lost."_

Jon met her gaze, the enormity of the emotions in his eyes too much for her to bear. She kissed him, kissed him like it was the first and last time, and when they eventually pulled apart she found him looking at her like she was the sun and he was a man who had lived in darkness all his life.

"I still can't believe you're real, Dany," he said, a small smile on his beautiful face. She kissed him again, wanted to taste his happiness and let it consume her.

He calmed her and cooled her and counselled her and she needed him so much, but maybe he needed her just as much too.

* * *

Like Drogon had taken his time warming up to Jon, Ghost hadn't been initially kind to her.

"He can smell the dragons," Jon Snow said. "They make him on edge."

"As they should," she said coldly.

Perhaps she too had been just as stand-offish, with Ghost and the proclaimed King in the North. Tyrion and Theon Greyjoy had told her of Jon Snow, had said he was a good man with a sense of honour just like his father. But Daenerys had grown up frightened and on the run, fleeing from city to city with her abusive brother because Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon had killed her family and took their throne. Despite knowing what her father had really been, how the Starks had been through more than their fair share of misery and how Ned Stark had once opposed the Usurper and defended her life, it was hard to let go of a life time of fear and resentment. Viserys' words had been rooted in her brain for as long as she could remember. More than once she had 'woken the dragon' questioning the motives of the Starks until eventually she had accepted that they were nothing more than monsters.

It was hard to shake off the damage the years had done to her, but deep down she knew Tyrion was right. The Starks weren't monsters, Jon Snow was an honourable man and she needed the North.

Ghost warmed up to her before Jon did; in fact, if it wasn't for the white direwolf she doubted they would ever have grown to love each other. Daenerys had been discussing a marriage pact between herself and the King in the North. There was no chance she was going to give up half her kingdom before she took the Iron Throne but she still needed the North, needed the Starks of Winterfell and the other great Northern houses if she was going to unite the Seven Kingdoms.

(Not to mention the true war was beyond the Wall, as she would soon learn.)

The wolf had been slowly approaching her for a while. The dragon scent which had scared him had now become something of a curiosity. He had started coming closer and closer to her, his ears pressed back and his head tilted to the side. Grey Worm had mistrusted the wolf's intentions, angrily ordering Jon to keep his direwolf away from the queen.

Ghost hadn't listened. He approached her one night when she was sitting on the walls of Winterfell, watching the snow fall against the ground. She had grown weary of the friction between herself and Jon; even then, arguing with him had made her heart feel strangely heavy. She needed his claim to the North and he needed her dragons, but it seemed like neither of them would ever learn how to truly work together.

Dany had sighed morosely, watching the snow fall with a strange sort of serenity. Her marriage to Jon Snow had not looked like it was going to be a happy one.

Ghost had walked up to her slowly. At first she had been frightened; the wolf didn't like her, and she was alone without her bloodriders or the Unsullied. Even her dragons had left to go hunting. For a brief moment she had considered calling for Jon.

But then the wolf was next to her, sniffing at her skin, and she reminded herself that she was the blood of the dragon. She had looked into the flaming pits of Drogon's mouth in Daznak's Pit, had felt his scorching breath on her face. She had ridden the black beast across the world and felt no fear surrounded by her dangerous children. If she could handle three dragons, she could handle a direwolf.

Filled with a newfound confidence, Dany had slowly placed her hand on Ghost's head, burying his fingers in his thick fur and petting him softly. Ghost had stilled- looked at her with his blood red eyes- then sat on his haunches and pressed his head into her touch. She had been so relieved she had let out a little laugh, tickling behind his ear as the great wolf lay down next to her silently.

"Your Grace!" Jon Snow was rushing towards her, eyeing his wolf with a look of panic. His worry for her well-being touched her, until she remembered that if Ghost were to kill her, her army or her dragons would probably kill him.

"There is no need to panic, Jon Snow," she said, a little more warmly than she intended. "Your wolf is doing no harm."

He studied the two of them cautiously, Ghost lying at her side like a puppy as she absentmindedly stroked a hand through his fur.

"I, er…didn't think he liked you," Jon said.

"Neither did I," she replied, looking at the former Lord Commander carefully. There was no denying he was beautiful. "But perhaps the wolf and the dragon can learn to co-exist yet."

After that Ghost had followed her around consistently, enjoying his behind the ear scratches and head rubs.

(He avoided the dragons though, especially Drogon. The black dragon had met him once and tried to eat him; Jon had sulked her for days).


	3. Chapter 3

**Yeah I decided to add another chapter to this. I'm not great with smut and it's not something I like to go out of my way to write but the idea came to me and I thought it was a great way to tell more of the story about Jon and Dany's relationship. Basically I always assumed Dany would take the initiative with Jon as she is the 'dragon' and Jon isn't really that smooth with the ladies, but this chapter is about Daenerys noticing that Jon isn't quite right after returning from death and encouraging her wolf to exercise his aggression in a way that benefits them both. Once again thank you very much to the lovely people reading and leaving such kind reviews, you have no idea how much your kind words mean to me!**

She's more experienced in the bedroom than he is.

It doesn't surprise her, although it should. He's comely, more appealing than even Khal Drogo and Daario. Tormund Giantsbane routinely mocks him as 'the pretty crow' and she notices how the women in the camp let their glances linger a moment too long on his beautiful scarred face. She tells herself it is foolish to be jealous. She is the blood of the dragon. Dragons envy no one. But Daenerys is still just a girl, a young girl with a heavy crown on her head and a fiery lust for the beautiful King in the North.

He is very respectful. Men usually find it hard to hide their lust for her, if they even bother to try and hide it at all. The crown and her children frighten them but their cocks are their downfall; they'll drop their gaze lower, and she can see the thoughts they are having as plain as she can see her own hands. The silver queen is beautiful. But Jon Snow does not look at her breasts, or lick his lips. He looks her straight in the eye always whenever he addresses her, with an intensity that makes her feel as if she is the only person in the world. Even after the ice between them breaks and they seek out each other's company for reasons other than to discuss battle and politics, he always looks her in the eye when they speak.

She knows she cannot wait until their wedding night.

Their first night together is an awakening. Noble Jon had been hesitant, not wishing to besmirch her honour. Dany's heart melted; even when she was bare before him, his lust apparent underneath her hand, he was still a gentleman. Of course it made no real difference whether or not they waited. Dany had been married twice, to her sun and stars and Hizdar zo Loraq, had enjoyed the pleasure of Daario Naharis, had already felt a life stir in her belly. Jon Snow would not be claiming her maidenhead, but he would be claiming her.

Dany was more experienced and much more confident, a million miles away from the frightened girl who had hesitantly lay with Khal Drogo. She had took what she wanted from the King in the North, riding him with a dragon's fire throughout the night, tasting the salt of his skin beneath her tongue, twining her fingers in his thick curls as he delivered what he fondly called 'The Lord's Kiss.'

(She loved the feeling of him inside her, but the Lord's Kiss was something else entirely, something which made her vision turn to white and her knees shake and her heart to nearly burst from her chest).

There was more to lovemaking with Jon, something she could never quite explain. It was somewhere in the intensity of his gaze, those faithful eyes that had never undressed her before his own hands. There was fire between them, an all-consuming flame that ignited and coiled in her belly whenever her purple eyes met his. Dany had experienced sexual pleasure, had come to greatly enjoy it. Laying with her sun and stars, though not initially pleasant, had grown beautiful, Irri had pleasured her the best she could and Daario had made her legs shake and her fears temporarily slip away. But nothing compared to Jon.

* * *

Despite enjoying riding Jon in the bedroom almost as much as she enjoyed riding Drogon through the air, Daenerys secretly craved something more.

Although Jon was not overtly experienced- he had only lay with his wildling bride Ygritte and now Dany- the women he had shared his bed with had a particular taste. He had told her everything about his past with Ygritte as she had told him about Drogo; how she had been kissed by fire, how she had been feisty and rough and demanding when it came to his affections. He joked that he had had to learn quickly how to keep up with her, to give as good as he got. And the thoughts and desires further swam in Dany's mind.

There was a darkness to her wolf that she could sense, something which she assumed had happened after his return from the grave. He had been touched by the darkness before the red priestess had brought him back, and the continuous battles he had faced in his life- Lady Catelyn's scorn, the harsh way of life at the Wall, the battle with the wildlings and Hardhome and the battle for Winterfell and being _murdered by his own brothers-_ had created something dark, something dangerous deep within him. Daenerys knew Jon would never hurt her. He was a good man, a caring lover, a compassionate leader. It was one of the many reasons she loved him fiercely and would bathe anyone who would dare hurt him again in dragonfire.

But she wanted that darkness. She wanted her wolf to snarl and take her rough, to growl and say that she was his and tear anyone who would come between them apart.

At first she had been reluctant to say anything. Their lovemaking certainly wasn't lacking, and wasn't it strange to want that of a man so loving and considerate? But Dany had lived with the Dothraki and experienced enough to know that there were different means of pleasure: the Dothraki mounted their women like a dog mounted a bitch, the wildings Jon had brought to Winterfell were open and free with their lust. Doreah had educated her plenty all those years ago when she had first wed and even Daario had shown her the ways of wanting and demanding and giving in the bedroom.

She was the blood of the dragon, she knew that. She was confident in who she was; but she also wanted her wolf too.

* * *

"I never realised you liked the godswood so much," Jon said, his hand wrapped around hers as she pulled him further through the trees.

"It's one of my favourite things about Winterfell," she replied. It was true; Winterfell itself was cold and strange and foreign to her, who had spent most of her life in heat. But there was something about the godswood which attracted her, something tranquil and calm. Tyrion said he found the heart tree unsettling. She found out entrancing. "Drogon likes it too," she continued, stopping amidst a thick clearing of trees and moving closer to her wolf. "Sometimes I find him here sleeping. He likes the pool by the heart tree."

Jon bit his lip as she began to unlace his breeches. "You want us to do this outside? We'll freeze."

He ran his hands underneath her cloak across her hot skin. "We'll find ways to keep warm," she grinned, letting out a moan as his hands travelled across her bodies. "Besides," she said, finding it hard to speak with the conviction of a queen when he began kissing her neck. "I want you to do something for me."

"Anything for you, my queen," he teased. She gasped as she felt his tongue across her jaw.

"Hunt me."

He stilled and she worried she had frightened him. He pulled back slightly and looked at her. "What do you mean?"

For a moment she was a timid little girl again, before she told herself off for being a foolish. She was the blood of the dragon and Jon was her wolf, _hers,_ and she could never frighten him away.

"I've seen the darkness in your eyes Jon," she whispered, her hands already in his hair. "I see it and it doesn't scare me. Do you want to know what it does to me?" She guided his hands down underneath her dress and gasped as his cold flesh met her hot skin.

He was panting ever so slightly, his nose trailing along her neck as if he was sniffing her scent. "You don't…you don't understand Daenerys. It…it scares me. I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," she assured him. "I trust you Jon. I want you to make me yours."

(Of course she trusted him. Jon knew if anything ever happened to her, Drogon would eat him. He joked about it often enough).

He knew she wasn't talking about marriage when she said that. Jon Snow, the girl-shy bastard of Winterfell, couldn't suppress the growl that escaped his lips at her words, his teeth grazing her neck. A dragon caught in the jaws of a wolf and all she could do was moan.

"So you want me to hunt you," he said, and she was glad to hear the playful tone in his voice. It was nice to know the King in the North wasn't always so solemn and serious, that only _she_ could bring out this side to him as he had brought out so much in her. "And then what? Will you be my prey Daenerys? Am I to take the spoils of my prize once I catch you?"

She shivered, tilting her head to whisper into his ear. "I want you to take me, my wolf."

Jon growled again, louder. It sent her weak at the knees and lust coiled in her belly so hot she feared she would peak right then and there.

"If my queen wants," he said slowly, pulling back reluctantly to look at her again with those intense dark eyes. "You have till the count of fifty to run, and after that…I'll come for you."

She smirked playfully, ecstatic that he had caught on so well to this game. She wasted no time in running, glad to have chosen boots equipped for the snowy wilderness of the godswood as she raced into the trees, her heart racing and her legs quivering in excitement. She tried to keep count with him as she ran, blindly zig-zagging through the trees and taking care not to fall in the snow but all she could think about was the pulse between her legs and the hungry look in his eyes. Eventually her breath grew short and she flung herself behind a tree. She strained to hear his footsteps but all she could hear was the pounding of her heart in her ears.

It seemed like forever that she hid behind that tree but the wait made it all the more delicious. Finally she heard him, his steady footsteps sounding not too far from her and she grinned silently and tried to stay quiet and wondered if he would find her or if she would have to lead him on a chase and- _oh._ She was a fool. She looked down at the ground and quickly realised that she had left footprints in the snow.

"Got you."

She gasped as his hands wrapped around her firmly from behind, tugging her to him roughly as he buried his face again her neck. She squirmed for the feel of it, his strong arms holding her possessively like a wolf that had caught his prey.

"Oh no," she gasped, greatly enjoying this game. "Whatever will my wolf do with me now?"

Jon growled and then she was against the tree, the rough bark digging into her skin as he bit and licked and sucked at her neck, his hands wrenching her cloak from her shoulders and tearing at her dress and she moaned, reaching back to pull at his hair as he marked her skin for the world to see. He was rough and sure and Dany had never felt pleasure like it as their clothes were shredded and he entered her; she was _his,_ just as he was _hers,_ and oh how she'd never felt pleasure like this, how Jon Snow made her feel like no ever person ever could, how she was so warm and safe in his arms despite the harsh winter surrounding them and even when her wolf was claiming her he never truly hurt her… She loved him, loved him so much with all her heart that she was burning…for the first time in her life Daenerys Targaryen was burning…

They peaked together quickly, with an intensity that made her vision go white and her legs buckle underneath her. She was so lost in her haze that she barely registered Jon slowly regaining himself, wrapping her thick cloak around her again and pulling her onto his lap as he sat against the tree, pressing soft kisses all over her face.

"Did I hurt you?" he breathed.

Dany smiled. Her sweet, caring, strong wolf. She turned and buried her head in his neck, surrounded by his scent. "No," she said. "It will take more than that to harm a dragon."

He laughed, his body enveloping hers in a strong, safe grip. He wasn't shaking despite the cold; perhaps the warmth of her skin kept him comfortable. Perhaps his legs were still boneless like hers.

"I don't ever want to leave this godswood," he said. She smiled, kissing him. Neither did she, but they had to return at some point. She was a Queen and he was a King and they had a kingdom to save, a world to fight for and people to help. Eventually she sighed, standing up slowly and pulling on her clothes.

(He'd ripped her dress in his eagerness; she would have to ask Missandei to help sew it again).

"Marry me."

She turned to face him as she pulled on her cloak; he was already re-dressed, his eyes once again looking straight into hers.

"I'm already marrying you," she answered.

Jon shook his head. "I don't want to marry you in a sept in King's Landing after the war. I want to marry you right here, right now. I want to take you as my wife in front of the old gods and show the world you're mine as soon as I can."

She said nothing, smiling silently as she wrapped her arms around him. Why shouldn't she marry him straight away? It's not as if she cared a great deal about marrying in a sept of the Seven; the seven gods of Westeros had never answered her prayers and her brother Viserys had told her once that the Targaryens, like their dragons, answered neither to gods nor men. The Faith didn't mean a great deal to her as nothing more than something her people recognised. And she didn't want to wait until the war was over. For all she knew they might not make it until the end of the war. Cersei Lannister ruled King's Landing under a crazed fist that rivalled her father's and would stop at nothing until the King in the North and the Dragon Queen were dead. An army of white walkers marched on the Wall; any day they could break through and only her dragons and Jon's Valyrian steel could stop them. A marriage alliance with Jon was the wisest choice politically, but Dany knew know she wasn't marrying him for politics. She was marrying him for love.

 _One to bed, one to dread and one to love._

"Okay," she said. "Let's marry tomorrow. In the godswood, under the heart tree with your people and mine."

He kissed her. Daenerys knew her third marriage of the wolf and the dragon, the pact of ice and fire, would be her happiest and her last.


End file.
